Black and Blue and Red All Over
by Haley94
Summary: A collection of missing scenes and new perspectives from the second-season episode, "Black and Blue."  Jamie, Danny, Frank and the rest of the family all deal with the frightening consequences that sometimes results from being in a family of cops.
1. Chapter 1

**Black and Blue and Red All Over**

**Author's Note:** Well, I've read a million fanfics but this is the first one I've actually written here, so I hope you'll be kind. I loved the episode "Black and Blue" but as soon as it was over, I couldn't stop thinking about missing and alternate scenes that would have been neat to see. So, here's me taking a shot at a few. I hope you enjoy and review! I own nothing, of course! Also, it's worth noting that I have no law enforcement experience, so if there are wild inaccuracies in some of this, I apologize.

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><p><em><strong>Missing Scene #1<strong> - Just how did Jamie and Renzulli get out of that building in one piece?_

Logically, Jamie knew that nobody had taken a Louisville Slugger to the side of his head, even though his ears were ringing so badly he could barely think. He knew there had been no steel-toed boots digging into his temple, either, but he was still half-convinced that if he probed too hard at the raw, bloody skin there, he might feel bone shift under his fingertips. It was hard to push past the blinding pain in his head.

What in the hell had just happened?

Gritting his teeth, Jamie dared to press the heel of his hand against his forehead anyway, wincing as he curled his fingers around the source of the pain. He felt jarred, his body knocked out of alignment at the joints, his bones rattled. Even his breaths seemed jittery, pulled out of lungs that weren't quite as attached as they had been just a few minutes ago, when…

…what?

He wasn't a hundred percent sure he hadn't taken the Wool Sock Slip, the term Joe had coined after Jamie's graceless and klutzy habit of taking the stairs at double-time in his favorite elephant socks had resulted in three trips to the ER and at least twice as many Dumbo band-aids before his sixth birthday. The Wool Sock Slip felt pretty much like this after it was all said and done, although the floor beneath him was colder and harder than the smooth boards of the living room floor at home, and he didn't see his horrified mother or his smirking older brother bending over him this time.

It was about then that he remembered that he was a cop and was sprawled on the floor of a building in Washington Heights, his cracked head aching like it had been split in half, the lights around him suddenly overbright and burning into his eyes. The world was swimming despite the solid marble floor beneath him, but he could see enough to make out the two broad-shouldered men standing on high ground above him, peering down at him and his sprawled sergeant.

Shit, the Sarge. Jamie struggled up, forcing out a breath from between clenched teeth as the walls tilted dangerously with his sudden movement. "Sarge," he gasped, and managed to get himself vertical, bending over his dazed partner. "Sarge, are you all right?"

Renzulli's eyes were open, but as soon as Jamie caught them, he realized with a sinking dread that his sergeant wasn't exactly home. Renzulli's gaze was blurry and dazed, and though he blinked up at Jamie blearily when Jamie laid one hand against his chest, there was no recognition - not of him, not of the fact that they had just toppled down a flight of stairs together, and not, it seemed, of the red smears against the bottom marble step. Jamie quickly cupped the back of Renzulli's head in his free hand, and blood seeped through his fingers.

Movement fluttered at the edges of his vision, and Jamie looked up, sucking in another tight breath as his head pounded from the sudden twist. The two guards were sauntering towards him now, their expressions blank, descending the steps with a measured ease and detachment that reminded Jamie of someone going to take out the trash.

And perhaps that's exactly what they were about to do.

Adrenaline surged, racing through his veins like fire, and in a rush, instinct overcame shock. Jamie snatched his weapon from the holder on his hip without hesitation, and brought the gun to bear on the two men. His hands were shaking, but he barely noticed. There wasn't time to consider it; there was time for nothing but action. "Hey, back up! Back up," he warned, his voice sounding weak and distant to his own ears. The men stopped but didn't exactly retreat, pausing there on the steps above to watch Jamie carefully. At that point, though, Jamie didn't care if they sat down and had a smoke, so long as they stopped. His heart was about to hammer straight through his ribcage, and he tasted a sharp, bitter flavor on the back of his tongue. He wondered if it was fear.

There was no time to be afraid. He looked quickly back down at the Sarge, who was still half-curled on the floor, hands protecting his head. Awkwardly, Jamie gripped his shoulder and shifted his stance, instinctively trying to put himself between his injured officer and the menacing presence, still looming just a few long strides away from them both. There were more men behind them now; more security in neatly pressed suits with grim faces and huge hands, and Jamie swallowed, pushing past the pain from his bruised body. "Stay back," he warned them, and fumbled for the radio on his left shoulder.

_"All right, kid, now I'm gonna see how well they grilled you at the academy. What's a 10-80?"_

_"Uh…"_

_"Ya gotta be quick, kid! You're out there in the boondocks and you need to make a call, you can't be hesitatin' and fumblin' around! Dispatch needs to know what's goin' on out there; now what's a 10-80?"_

_"Cancel, Sarge. And specify the cancelled service."_

_"Right. How about a 10-84?"_

_"Arrived at scene."_

_"Very good! Ya know, your brother once blanked out when I asked him what a 10-4 was."_

_"Really?"_

_"Sometime s the easiest ones are the hardest to remember. 10-13."_

_"That's officer in need of assistance."_

_"Right, and you better remember that one, kid. You ever get yourself into a world of trouble, that's the code you're gonna want to use to get some friends around ya forthwith."_

_"What's the difference between that and a 10-85?"_

_"You call a 10-13, that means your head's already been knocked off and is in the process of getting kicked down the street. You only call that one if you're bad off, and I mean bad off. 10-85 means it's heading that way, but you've still got a chance of getting outta there in one piece. What's with the face?"_

_"Neither of those sound that good to me."_

_"Well, that's why ya got me, kid. I'm here to make sure you stay in one piece. Two, tops."_

_"Thanks, Sarge."_

Jamie grabbed the radio clipped to his shoulder. His fingers were slippery with blood. "10-85, forthwith," he snapped, not bothering to check the channel for other traffic first. "Uh… one two two Lenox… I need a bus."

He swallowed, eyes flicking back up to the guards as his radio crackled with acknowledgement from dispatch. It wouldn't be long, he knew, before help would be on the way. In the meantime…

_Danny's hands came down hard on his shoulders; gripped them. "You ready for today's rule, kid?"_

_Jamie sighed, wishing he could twist out from under his brother's bruising grip but knowing better. "What are we up to now, seventy-five?"_

_"We're up to as many as I want. So long as you're wearing the blue, kid, you're gonna learn from the best and I'm going to have you eating, sleeping and crapping this stuff, you got it?"_

_"I got it."_

_"Today's rule." Danny released one shoulder; lifted one finger in the air. "You get in trouble, right? You're in a bad situation; some dark alley somewhere. You need to make a quick decision. What do you do?"_

_"Uh… follow the lead of my training officer?"_

_"No."_

_"Follow my instinct?"_

_"No."_

_He twisted a corner of his mouth. "Ask dispatch to have you call me on the radio for a briefing."_

_Danny smiled. "Four letters."_

_"Hit me."_

_"WWDD."_

_Jamie laughed before he could help it. "Are you kidding me?"_

_Danny looked pleased with himself. "I am not. And you remember that, kid."_

What WOULD Danny do?

Protect his partner. Control the situation. Get to safety.

The security guard with the gold earring took another step closer, and Jamie snapped his gun to aim on center mass without thought. "I told you to stay back!"

Earring raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture, though his expression didn't change. "We warned you, didn't we?"

Jamie clenched his teeth, keeping one hand locked firmly around Renzulli's shoulder. "What part of obeying an order from a police officer was too much for you?"

"This is private property," Earring seethed. "You were warned, and you chose to ignore that warning. We're doing our jobs… officer."

"That job include assault?" he snapped.

Earring drew himself up, his face twisting. "It's unfortunate you both lost your balance and fell down the stairs."

Jamie narrowed his eyes. A thousand responses crowded for space on his tongue, but he was in the uniform, and blood was running into his ear now, and it was almost impossible to think past the pounding of his growing headache. "I need you and your friends to back off. Right now."

Earring's eyes narrowed, too, but he remained where he was, posture going ramrod-straight.

"Now!" Jamie's voice boomed off the marble walls, and with a scowl, Earring and the other security guards backed up a few steps, their defiant glares still fixed on Jamie and Renzulli.

It would have to do for now. Jamie ducked his head, eyes skating over Renzulli's dazed figure, and he jumped when he felt a sudden spill of warmth down his cheekbone. Swiping at it with the back of his hand, he was only mildly surprised to see the smear of his own blood against his skin. Head wounds bled a lot. He remembered that from a childhood largely spent careening off the sharp edges of two older brothers. "Sarge, can you hear me? I've got help on the way."

Renzulli groaned and shifted under Jamie's hold. After a quick glance up to make sure Earring and his goons remained a safe distance away, Jamie slid his weapon back into its holder and used both hands to grip his sergeant's arms. "Sarge? Do you hear me?"

"I hear you," he muttered. "What the hell happened?"

"Close encounter with a flight of stairs. Help's on the way," Jamie added. "Do you want to sit up?"

Renzulli grunted something in the affirmative, and Jamie knelt, helping to brace him as he pulled himself slowly, painfully, to a sitting position. The sergeant kept one hand wrapped protectively against the back of his head, hissing with pain. "God, kid, what happened?"

"Stairs," Jamie said absently, putting an arm around his sergeant's shoulders to brace him up.

Renzulli turned his head gingerly to squint at Jamie, then blinked in surprise, his eyes widening comically. It might have been funny in any other circumstance. "Are you bleeding, kid?"

"A little." Actually, the entire right side of his face felt damp now, but there wasn't much use dwelling on it. "You are, too."

"What happened?"

"Same thing that happened to you," he remarked wryly, and would have smiled if not for another sudden shadow in the corner of his eye.

And before he knew what was happening, a massive hand had snatched him by the collar, hauling him to his feet like a doll. Jamie lashed out without thought, driving his bruised elbow into the man's midsection. He heard a surprised grunt, but the painful grip didn't release. "You need to exit this property - now!"

Sirens were wailing outside, and a dozen or more black men in suits were filling the lobby, jostling as they rushed into the space. For a moment Jamie's heart clawed up into his throat, seizing at the sudden and desperate thought that they were being ambushed now, set upon like prey. But the burly men were moving past them to the doors, and to the police officers who were now shouting on the other side of the glass.

Jamie managed to jerk free of Earring's grasp with a sharp twist, tucking his narrow frame low to avoid the follow-up swipe. "Give us room," he snapped, though he knew such orders were paper-thin now.

Rough hands grasped him by the shoulders-

Danny's hands came down hard on his shoulders; gripped them. "You ready for today's rule, kid?"

-but Jamie moved with them, getting his arms tightly around Renzulli's listing body and using Earring's muscle to get them both on their feet. "Back off!" he snapped, and fisted his own hands in Renzulli's uniform, yanking him close. The heavy bodies of the security guards were all around them now, and Jamie moved with their momentum, struggling forward. "Police officers! Get back!" he yelled, trying to use his voice to clear the path. The voices were louder, more heated, and Jamie gripped Renzulli fiercely as he wobbled.

A voice outside cried out, "There they are!"

And, blinking blood out of his eyes, Jamie lurched forward with Renzulli tucked safely beside him, stumbling out into the light.

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><p>Hey, hope you enjoyed it. Read and review! Next up tomorrow…<p>

_**Missing Scene #2** - Danny takes care of Jamie in the frantic moments following the escape from the church._

If you have any missing scenes or prompts you'd like me to do, let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

**Black and Blue and Red All Over**

**Author's Note:** I'm still making my way through the majority of the first season of this show, which is both a good thing (for me) and a bad thing (for you). The good thing for me is, this means I have lots of awesome episodes that I have not yet seen to relish and enjoy. The bad thing for you is, I don't have the same background on this show that most of you do, so I'm completely guessing on many of the details regarding family history, incidents, memories and circumstances. Please chalk it up to author's license if (when) I get anything wrong. I hope you enjoy the story in any case, and would love to know what you think. Hit a girl up, would you?

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><p><em><strong>Missing Scene #2 -<strong> Danny takes care of Jamie in the frantic moments following the escape from the church._

Danny was used to driving at ridiculous and completely unsafe levels of speed, and it certainly wasn't anything to do with being a cop. From the time he was ten and commandeered Grandma Rose's 1965 Cadillac for a two-block joyride down the street, Danny had been passionate about the freedom a six-cylinder engine could provide. He wasn't much on what went on under the hood, but he did appreciate "pedal to the metal" as one of the distinct pleasures of life. Being a cop had done nothing to temper Danny's need for speed, and he still grinned when he recalled getting behind the wheel of a patrol car for the first time, flipping on the siren with a smile brighter than his red and blue lights as his father stood in amused resignation a few feet away, running a weary hand down his face.

The undercover clunker that he was in at the moment wasn't exactly the top-of-the-line model he'd come to appreciate as a beat cop, but that didn't matter at the moment. Danny was pushing it to top performance anyway, and this time had no appreciation for its acceleration or nimble handling of the New York City traffic. In the passenger's seat next to him, Jackie had gone equally silent, letting fly with none of her usual barbs about Danny's driving prowess or oncoming cars he might want to avoid. Instead, she gripped her portable radio in one hand and the plastic handle above the door with the other to steady herself, eyes on the road, face tense.

These calls were the reasons Danny had learned to drive fast and hard in the first place.

Joe had been a 10-85 once, too.

"Christ," Jackie said, and Danny saw it up ahead instantly - a tangle of uniforms and suits on the sidewalk, spilling into the street. They were wrestling with and clashing into each other bodily, the quarters so tight it was hard to tell which ones were the cops and which ones were not. "Would you look at this?"

Danny gunned his unmarked piece of crap and hopped the curb with a loud and satisfying bang, scraping the undercarriage against curbing. Jackie leapt out immediately, the portable radio still in her hand, and Danny followed with his gaze narrow and tight. Adrenaline was pounding in his veins, and he stepped boldly around the hood. "What the hell's going on here? Back up," he added, putting a drop of menace into his tone when he spotted a wide-eyed citizen edging too close.

A few of the officers on the far side of the fray were calling out, voices rising above the din, and Danny's eyes went back to the fracas. He was scanning quickly, looking for a place to jump in and help, when his eyes landed on two particular cops emerging from the cluster of bodies. They were notable because they were stumbling away from the action, not diving into it, and...

...one of them was Jamie.

He actually blinked first, just for a half-second, because he couldn't believe what his eyes were trying to tell him. There was no way, no way in hell his little brother was here, pulling another officer to safety. Not here, of all places, with cops fighting and burly black men struggling back, and people hollering and chaos reigning. In Danny's heart, his little brother was still an eight-year-old with missing teeth and footie pajamas and a ragged hand-me-down teddy bear named Eddie. He wasn't a hero. Was he?

"Hey, kid!" Danny hollered across the space.

Jamie's head jerked towards the sound of the familiar voice, and then Danny saw it.

Blood.

The entire right side of Jamie's face was covered in it, fresh red contrasting sharply against drying black, and it had dripped in lazy and haphazard patterns over his brow, temple and cheekbone. He looked like someone had ground the business end of a broken bottle into the side of his face.

"Danny!" Jamie called back, and the young officer picked up his stumbling pace, changing direction to move towards his older brother and hauling the cop next to him - Renzulli; he's got his TO - along as well. "He's hurt," Jamie added, but Danny never heard the words. His world had narrowed to Jamie, blood, and danger.

"What happened?" Danny snapped when he could pull in a breath around his shock, bolting forward and grabbing hold of Renzulli's elbow. He eased the older officer to a seat on the car hood, but had eyes only for Jamie. His little brother was still gripping Renzulli by the shoulder, searching the sergeant's cloudy eyes with his own clear, concerned ones. He seemed oblivious to both the blood on his face and the gory picture he presented. "What's going on?" Danny pressed.

"He's hurt," Jamie said again. "A bus is on the way."

In Danny's opinion, Jamie himself was the only one who looked hurt at the moment, and he was just opening his mouth to say so when Jackie caught her first full look at Jamie's face. "Whoa!"

Danny stared, too.

And remembered another time.

_Kneeling on a concrete floor amid puddles of spilled alcohol and broken tumblers, not feeling the tiny chips of glass biting into his knees. His head was spinning, thoughts circling and melting into each other like a merry-go-round, and his stomach was a bottomless pit._

_A hand came down on his shoulder. "Danny, you shouldn't be here."_

_Stray pieces of gauze and tubing left behind by the EMTs, scattered and trampled like forgotten favors at a holiday party, surrounded him. Horror crept stealthily up his spine._

_"They're taking him to the hospital, Danny. We've got a car waiting for you. C'mon, you're not doing him any good here."_

_Blood was pooled in front of him, smeared like dark paint against the floor. Blood, cooling and drying on the concrete._

_And just like that, he knew his brother was gone._

Someone jostled Danny from behind, and he shook loose of the dark thoughts, turning quickly back to the escalating mob scene behind him. "Get back!" he ordered, but was startled when one of the black men plowed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"This is a church!" The man's face was screwed tight with rage.

Danny neatly ducked the meaty fists and caught the man fast, neatly flipping him onto his stomach and pinning him down to the hood next to a dazed Renzulli, who seemed to be watching with only a passing interest. "What are you doing, huh?" Danny hissed at the man's back. The thought crossed his mind that maybe this man was the one who had hurt his brother, and his grip tightened. "You put your hands on a police officer?"

The man grimaced, grunting something unintelligible in response.

"You better watch your back, pig!" someone else in the mass of bodies yelled.

Danny twisted to fire an angry look into the crowd. "Hey!"

"Ten-thirteen," Jackie called breathlessly into her radio next to him. "We've got a situation; we're going to need more units."

"I said back up!" Danny snapped, and for the first time began to feel a thread of unease curling up inside him like smoke.

As though summoned by that moment of hesitation, the district's commander was suddenly standing next to Danny, his broad shoulders and strong voice bringing the same sort of easy reassurance that his father's presence did. "I need a situation report, now! Are the responding officers accounted for?"

Jamie spun to face the commander so fast, he nearly tumbled over Renzulli's feet. "Yes sir, my training officer and I are here."

The commander's eyes narrowed when he caught a full-on look at Jamie. "You responded to the 911 call?"

"Yes sir... a 10-30," Jamie explained breathlessly. "Church security tried to prevent us from accessing the building."

"And this is what happened when you insisted?"

"Yes sir. We were the only officers ever inside, as far as I know."

"Get yourselves looked after," the commander ordered curtly, then moved assuredly into the fray, barking orders.

Danny turned to Jamie, keeping one hand firmly planted on the back of the man in front of him. Anger flared again at the sight of his brother's face. "Tell me what they hit you with."

In true cop fashion, Jamie's attention had gone back to the fight. His hand, Danny noted, was still on Renzulli's shoulder. "Huh?"

"What did they hit you with, kid?"

"Oh - nothing," he replied absently. "We got pushed down the stairs. I smacked my head on the way down."

Danny stared at him incredulously. "They pushed you down the STAIRS? Are you kidding me?"

Jamie paid no attention to the comment, instead twisting himself to better protect Renzulli as a pair of cops shoved another church security guard away from the curb, bumping off the car as they did so. The fight seemed to be dying down, with church security retreating to the building's face and police slowly peeling back. "Danny," Jamie said. "What caused this? We were just responding to a 911 call."

Danny's burgeoning anger over Jamie's revelation faded a bit as the words sank in. "Kid - this is Reverend Potter's church, you know? And you know what an idiot he is about police intervention." He nodded to another officer as he took over the man Danny had grabbed, pulling him towards detainment in a squad car.

Jamie still looked confused. "But we were here to help him."

"If you and the sarge got shoved down the stairs, I'm guessing he didn't want your brand of help." Danny shot a quick look at Renzulli, who seemed relatively coherent, then leaned forward to lay a rough hand against the side of his brother's neck, turning his jaw gently to better see the damage. "How many stairs did you two fall down?"

"I don't know... a dozen, maybe. They were marble." He smiled wryly and rubbed at the small of his back. "Not a fun trip."

For his part, Danny saw no levity in the subject. "You both need to go to over to New York Presbyterian. Get yourselves checked out."

"I'm fine," he protested. "But I don't know about the sarge. He cracked his head pretty hard on that bottom step; might have shaken something loose."

Danny took a breath to reply but was interrupted by the arrival of EMTs, who listened to Jamie's brief report before whisking Renzulli off to the waiting ambulance. "You're going to be fine, sarge," Jamie called after him. "These guys will take great care of you."

Danny pinned him with a critical eye. "Next bus is for you, junior," he said, tone brokering no argument.

"I'm okay, I swear."

Danny tapped the window of his car, and Jamie glanced over, catching his blurry reflection. "Your face says otherwise."

"It's not as bad as it looks. Just a cut. And you know what dad always said about head wounds."

"Yeah, with three boys, he would know." He took hold of his younger brother's arm and pulled him forward, nodding towards the approaching ambulance. "Let's go, kid. I mean it."

Jamie moved with him for a few paces, but suddenly slowed. Exasperated, Danny turned towards him, but hesitated when he saw the guarded expression on Jamie's face. "Dad's going to be pissed," Jamie said.

"For what? You doing your job?"

"He's been having trouble with the reverend for months." Jamie's eyes darted away from Danny's, taking in the dozens of cop cars and the growing crowd. "Did we do the wrong thing?"

"You did your job," Danny insisted. "Exactly what you were supposed to do."

"But this will be all over the news, won't it?"

Danny looked over Jamie's shoulder across the street, spotting the New York One truck pulling up. "Speaking of," he muttered, and stepped neatly between Jamie and the news vehicle, slinging a arm over his brother's shoulder and tucking the clean side of Jamie's face into his chest. "Right this way, kiddo."

"What are you doing?" Jamie asked, his voice muffled against Danny's hoodie.

"Protecting your pretty face from the TV cameras, Mr. Undercover."

"Hell, I didn't even think about that."

"Well, you're lucky I'm here, then." They rounded the back of the waiting ambulance, and Danny nodded to the EMT. "Can I turn him over to you? He took a nasty fall down a flight of stairs."

Jamie extricated himself from Danny's grip and shot him a baleful look, which was rendered less effective by his rumpled hair. "Will you call dad and tell him?"

"You don't think he already knows?"

Jamie frowned as the EMTs sat him down on the back bumper of the ambulance, then winced as one pressed a thick gauze pad against his forehead. "Just make sure he knows... we were trying to do the right thing."

"Yeah, I know, kid. And he will, too."

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><p>Please read and review! You know, you make an author's day when you do that... plus, if you want more chapters or scenes, this is the only way we know. :) Next up…<p>

_**Missing Scene #3 -** Frank finds out just what sort of a day it's been for Danny and Jamie._


	3. Chapter 3

**Black and Blue and Red All Over**

**Author's Note:** My apologies for this being so late! I intended to have it up Wednesday, but Real Life wasn't on my side with that. I hope you enjoy!

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><p><em><strong>Missing Scene #3<strong> - Frank finds out just what sort of a day it's been for Jamie._

Frank Reagan was not having a good day.

His secretary tripping over her own heels and spilling his coffee all over the leather couch in his office hadn't been that bad, and neither had the tangled mess of paperwork that one of his lieutenants had deposited on his desk with a smile.

But this budget meeting? Killing him.

Trying to arrange his face into something that passed for interest, Frank watched as one of the city financial planners carried on, gesturing towards a PowerPoint filled with bar graphs, statistics and projections. Oh, it was important information, and critical to the city's health and strength. He knew that. But the numbers were strangling the cop in him.

Frank had just begun to tap his fingers against the polished mahogany surface of the massive conference table, eyeing his iPhone and considering a visit to the "Angry Birds" app Jack had helpfully installed for him the weekend before, when the door to the conference room eased open on silent hinges. Frank did his best to mask his relief when he saw one of the young women from his office poke her head through, eyes scanning the room until her gaze landed on him. Her expression was pinched and set; like someone, he thought, who had just taken a deep breath and put on a nice, stoic mask.

Bad news, then.

She nodded at him, and he cleared his throat, nodding graciously to the curious faces that turned his way as he stood and moved towards the door. It was always conspicuous when the commissioner went anywhere, or dared to excuse himself in the middle of a meeting. Yet another thing, honestly, that made him miss being on the front lines of the force.

The woman - Kate Walton was her name, although he had not worked with her often - stepped back into the hallway, holding the door for him and closing it with a firm click once he was through.

Frank turned to face her expectantly, slipping his hands into his pockets. She was taking a deep breath, and her posture was tense.

Frank was well aware of his intimidation factor. He waited, trying not to smirk.

Kate looked up, swallowing. "Sir, we have a situation in Washington Heights."

He lifted his eyebrows. Picking up on his silent cue to continue, she took another breath before speaking again. "Sir, about fifteen minutes ago, officers responded to a 911 call of a robbery in progress at Reverend Potter's church. The officers were denied access to the building and were subsequently injured by the Reverend's security guards. A 10-85 was called, and the situation had escalated to a 10-13 within a few minutes. The district commander is attempting to bring the situation under control at the moment."

Frank was careful to make sure his calm, measured expression never changed. He was good at that. But inside, his emotions tumbled from surprise, down through concern, and finally splattered on the rock-bottom of dread. "Are the church's guards resisting?"

"Yes sir."

He bit back a groan. From a public relations perspective, this had all the appeal of a pile of dog crap smeared on the sole of his shoe. "I want an update upstairs in my office in five minutes. Make sure public affairs is involved. And give the district commander strict instructions that I want this resolved as peacefully as possible."

Kate had whipped her leather portfolio out from under her arm the moment he began speaking, and was scribbling frantic notes. She tucked her pen behind her ear a moment later to grab the smartphone perched precariously in the crook of her arm. "Sir, ambulances were requested at the scene. I don't know why."

"Find out. I'll be right back." Kate nodded, moving purposely away down the hall, phone already going to her ear.

He was alone in the hallway for just a moment, and Frank took that moment for himself, breathing deeply of the quiet. If Reverend Potter was indeed involved in some sort of mayhem with the NYPD, it certainly wouldn't be quiet for long. The Office of the Commissioner would need to dust off all its political armor for this one.

On the bright side, the Reverend HAD gotten him out of the budget meeting.

Centering himself for the challenge ahead, Frank moved back into the room and stepped purposefully to his seat. The conversation paused with his entrance, and he hoped the wistful smile on his face looked genuine. "Ladies and gentlemen, a matter has developed that requires my attention. I regret that I will need to excuse myself."

"Aw, c'mon, Frank," one of the captains on the other side of the room said with a labored sigh. "It took us three weeks to pull everyone together for this. Can't you let Garrett handle it?"

"I apologize, John, but the business of New York City is at hand." He gathered his portfolio and phone, nodding once again to those gathered as he departed.

Frank was surprised to find Kate waiting for him when he stepped out into the hallway again. Her face had gone several shades paler.

Frank swore in the privacy of his head. "Walk with me," he said curtly.

He was four strides down the hallway before he realized she wasn't following.

Surprised, Frank turned to look over his shoulder. "Miss Walton?"

Kate stepped forward, swallowing hard. "Sir, I've received confirmation that two officers were injured on the scene."

He hesitated, trying to read what was coming next. "Badly?"

"No details on that, sir. But they were out of the twelfth." She swallowed again. "Sergeant Anthony Renzulli and... Officer Jamie Reagan."

Frank stared, uncomprehending.

"I'm trying to find out his condition, sir," she said, stumbling into his shocked silence with quick words. "I've placed some calls-"

"My son?" He heard the words before realizing they had passed from his lips and barely recognized the stunned voice that had to be his own. He couldn't process what she had just told him.

"Yes, sir." She looked down at the cell phone, tight in her hand. "Sergeant Anthony Renzulli and Officer Jamie Reagan-"

He spun on his heel and marched down the hall, moving quickly toward the elevators. Fear was beginning to claw into the bottom of his stomach, and he gritted his teeth, swallowing down against it. He needed to move. He needed to act. Panic would get him nowhere. He couldn't help his son if he was-

Frank stopped abruptly, his head spinning, and nearly had to put a hand against the wall to steady himself. Ambulances. Officers injured on the scene. His _son_.

"Sir?" Kate was rushing after him, her heels tapping out a panicked and uneven rhythm in the hallway. "Could it be someone else? Another officer with the same name?"

"Sergeant Renzulli is my son's TO," he replied tightly.

"And Officer Reagan is in the twelfth?"

"Yes." Jamie's face flashed before him, and he remembered a brisk September morning when he saw his son in full uniform for the first time, Jamie standing pink-cheeked and windblown on a New York City street with hundreds of other newly minted officers. He remembered grasping his son's hand, clapping him solidly on the shoulder, and feeling his heart swell with pride at the sparkle in his youngest boy's eyes. "I'm proud of you, son," he had said. Oh, God, he was proud.

Frank punched the button for the elevator a good deal harder than was actually necessary. Kate was back on her phone again, a nervous flutter at his elbow.

He wasn't going to think about it. He couldn't think about it. He had a job to do.

But Jamie was his _baby_, for God's sake.

The elevator announced its arrival with a pleasant ding that Frank barely heard. When the door slid open smoothly a moment later, he began to move forward but was brought up abruptly by the unexpected sight of his DCPI, Garrett Moore, standing in the car. His assistant, Detective Baker, was at Garrett's side.

Garrett immediately threw his hands up in the air, his wide gaze taking in the full effect of Frank's looming presence. "Frank, he's okay."

"What?" he snapped.

"Jamie's fine," he assured. "We just confirmed it. Nothing but minor injuries, Frank."

He hesitated, letting the words sink in. "You're certain?"

"I just spoke with the commander on scene," Garrett said, stepping back to allow Frank into the elevator. "Your office, sir?"

"Are you still getting reports?"

"By the minute," Detective Baker replied, as Kate slid inside and pressed the proper button to get them moving. "Metro News just went live with an on-scene reporter. We're working on-"

"Brief me upstairs," he interrupted.

The detective blinked in surprise. "Yes, sir," she replied, catching the knowing look Garrett was sending her way.

Frank saw it, too, but ignored it. Instead, he just breathed, feeling the clench of fear in his muscles loosen, and feeling the numbness fading away. He would let them share whatever details they were gathering when the elevators doors opened again, and when he stepped out as the Police Commissioner of New York City.

But for the moment, just one moment, he was something even more important than that.

A father.

* * *

><p>I hope you've enjoyed these missing scenes! I have two more in mind but I just got an awesome new idea tonight from Gymkidz2000, so I'll be doing that one as well. Also, shoutout to Spedreder who left a nice review that I wasn't able to reply to - so I'm thanking you here. :) More to come soon! Next up:<p>

_**Missing Scene #4** - Danny touches base with his father over the day's events._


	4. Chapter 4

**Black and Blue and Red All Over**

**Author's Note:** Okay, I'm pretty sure now that I screwed up the location of where things went down in this episode. Apparently, Reverend Potter's sanctuary on Lenox Avenue/Malcolm X Boulevard and the West 116th Street corridor where Danny and Jackie were at the beginning of the episode are both locations in Harlem, not Washington Heights. Washington Heights is about forty blocks north. What can I say - I grew up in New York but I wasn't old enough to drive, LOL. Make mine Manhattan! Anyway, in researching my goof I've discovered that if you go on Google Maps streetview and do some nosing around in those areas, you can find the actual filming locations for this episode. It's cool stuff and fun to do on a relaxed holiday weekend. Meanwhile, I've fixed my error in the earlier scenes. Sorry about that!

Here's the next installment in our ongoing series...

* * *

><p><em><strong>Missing Scene #4<strong> - Danny touches base with his father over the day's events._

As it turned out, Frank called Danny first.

Danny had just finished scowling through the replay of the 911 call with Jackie, kicking back in his rickety office chair. "Gotta be a bogus call," he muttered.

Perched on the corner of his desk, Jackie scowled herself. "But who would want to trick the cops into running into a prayer service?"

"I don't know," he sighed, and glanced over at his phone as it began to ring. "Listen, you go ahead and check in on those perps, huh?"

"While you grab a doughnut?" She hadn't missed the treat he had snagged for himself on the way into the precinct.

"I gotta have fuel to work," he protested. She shot him a scoffing look over her shoulder, and he grinned at her retreating back as he picked up the receiver and stuffed the pastry into his mouth. "Reagan," he said around a mouthful of doughnut, wiping his sugar-tipped fingers off on the side of his jeans.

"Did I catch you in the middle of a meal?" His father's deep, resonating voice carried a hint of amusement.

Danny didn't choke, but he came close. "Hey, pop," he managed after a moment, coughing into the back of his hand and clearing his throat. "Didn't expect to hear your voice."

"I can tell."

"Didn't I just see you on TV?" Danny leaned back in his chair again and craned his neck around to the television in the corner of the room. It was tuned to New York One and running the "moments ago" footage of the peaceful detainments at the sanctuary.

"I'm taking a break. You aware of what's going on down here?"

Danny snagged a faded Taco Bell napkin from beneath a potted plant on Jackie's desk. "Yeah, Jack and I were working the subway scrub a couple of blocks away when the call came in. We were able to get on the scene in two." He hesitated, rubbing the edge of the napkin between his fingers before balling it in his hand. "You know Jamie was there."

Twenty blocks away, from the back of the SUV in which he sat, Frank turned his absent gaze away from the tinted windows. Outside, the NYPD officers were continuing their stoic work of controlling the scene, and despite the hell Reverend Potter was continuing to raise across the street with the media and crowd, the mayor himself had followed Frank's example and also slipped into the privacy of his vehicle. It wouldn't do to be out of sight for long, Frank knew, especially for them both. But he was damn well going to take a moment to talk to his eldest son. "I was briefed," he said. "But it wasn't much. Did you see him?"

"Hell yeah, I saw him." A hard, sullen edge entered Danny's voice. "Dragging his TO out of that building, surrounded by a dozen thugs, blood all over the place."

Frank frowned, feeling the unwelcome yet familiar sense of unease crawl across his skin. He looked down at the suit jacket he'd tossed into the seat next to him, and smoothed a hand down the rumpled edges of his waistcoat, trying not to picture the vivid images Danny was painting with his words.

Danny huffed a loud and frustrated sigh into the phone. "I tell you what, dad. It was all I could do to keep from bashing heads together right there on the spot."

"You sound like your grandfather."

Danny's voice turned indignant. "You called him before you called me?"

"HE called ME," Frank corrected. "He saw the whole thing on television and decided I needed to be briefed."

Danny laughed, and the welcome sound eased Frank's anxiety a notch. "Not like you don't have a dozen people to take care of that for you."

"I suppose he was being thorough." Frank glanced idly out the window once more. "And he wanted scoop, of course."

"Of course." He could hear the bustle of Danny's precinct in the background as his son shifted the phone. "Dad, you know Jamie's okay, right?"

"I know."

"Then why are you calling me?"

Frank sighed. He prided himself on being able to read his children, but he always forgot that they were Reagans, too, just as he was. The apple didn't fall far from the tree. "Are you all right?"

"Of course."

"Do you know if your brother was mentioned on television?"

"Nah, not that I've heard. The press has just been mentioning the deal in general. No names. I don't think they have many details."

"Good. I've asked public affairs to keep them both out of the spotlight."

"Yeah, and I made sure Jamie ducked the cameras that were there," Danny clarified. "We gotta keep him off the front page, too."

Frank nodded grimly. "All of the details, including names, will remain confidential. That's as much for Jamie's privacy as for the transparency of the department."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want anyone to assume I'm handling this case differently just because my son is involved."

"Even though you are."

"No," Frank said flatly. "I'm not."

"You are. I know you."

"Then you know how the office of the commissioner responds to incidents such as these."

"Fine, _Dad,_" he said with a smirk, but then his voice took on a more serious tone. "You worried about his cover?"

"I am."

"What else?"

Danny really was his father's son. "I don't want the reverend to seize on him."

He could almost see Danny nodding through the phone. "Yeah," he said. "Potter would have a field day if he knew who his people really shoved down the stairs."

"Well, they shoved _cops_ down the stairs," Frank said grimly. "The situation is rotten regardless, but it would be worse if the Reverend knew who they were. I won't have your brother caught in that kind of crossfire, if I can help it."

"Yeah," Danny muttered again. "I think he's been caught in enough crossfire for one day."

Frank caught the change in his eldest son's tone, and he took in a breath to steady himself. "How bad was it?" he asked quietly.

Danny's silence, long and hollow, told him all he needed to know.

Frank pressed his lips together, gathering his thoughts to speak again, when Danny's voice suddenly filled his ear, soft and dangerous. "I had no idea he was even there, Dad. We just hear that officers are in distress, we go - and I didn't even know. We get there and I look up in the middle of all this fighting, and I see him pulling Renzulli out, and the whole right side of his face is covered in blood. I mean, covered. I mean, he was running around and everything, but it looked... Dad, it looked really bad," he managed, and Frank struggled to keep his composure, swallowing hard. "And I got hold of him, you know, and it was okay, but... that's my kid brother, you know? Nobody puts hands on him but me."

Frank couldn't help a watery smile at that. "And I'm sure those hands are loving and gentle every time."

"You know it."

"Did he have a head injury?"

"No, nothing serious. Just a gash. I think the medics ended up putting a couple of stitches in his head. He was fine, though. Bruised up a little, but okay. Not worried about himself at all." Danny hesitated. "You haven't seen him there?"

"No. They brought him back to the scene to try and ID some of the assault suspects, but I've intentionally stayed away from that."

He could almost hear Danny nodding through the phone. "What's the word on Renzulli?"

"Just a concussion. No bleeding or fractures, from what the doctors can tell."

"Hang on a sec, Dad," Danny said suddenly, and the sound became muffled. "In a minute!" he could hear his son hollering. "Yeah, I know! I'm on the phone! The phone! Shut up!"

Frank arched an eyebrow, and spoke when the sounds returned to normal. "Do you need to go?"

"Sorry about that. No, I have another second. You're probably the one who needs to go, huh?"

"I have another second, too." He turned unseeing eyes on the window, listening to his son's breathing through the phone. "You know this address, don't you? One twenty-two Lenox?"

Danny hesitated. When he spoke again, he sounded years older. "It was the first thing I thought of. You're not hung up on that, though, are you?"

Frank ignored the question. "I have it on good authority that you and Jackie are helping to work the case."

"Yeah. Did you hear about this 911 call?"

"Fake," he said flatly.

"Yeah. It came from Washington Heights, not Harlem." Danny paused. "Jackie was just asking me who would want to trick the cops to running into a place."

"I wish it was the first time it had ever happened."

"But this wasn't like that, Dad. This wasn't..."

"Wasn't an ambush?"

Danny just sighed. "I don't know what games Potter and his people are playing. But those guys in '72, they didn't get out. Jamie... we got him out, Dad."

Frank nodded, letting the father in him cling to those words. "I'll admit, Danny... I'm finding it a little difficult to not think about what might have been."

"You're describing every day of my life," Danny replied wryly. "But you know what, Dad? You're here, and I'm here, and Jamie is too. And he's fine. I had hold of him myself. He's fine. You gotta hang onto that."

Frank took a deep breath. "Thank you, son."

"Sure. The kid wanted me to call you, actually."

Frank's mouth twisted wryly. "He didn't want me to find out about this the hard way?"

"You did anyway, I'm sure. How bad was that?"

Kate Wilson's chalk-white face flashed in his mind, and it was Frank's turn to fall silent. It was a struggle to keep back the memories, not only of the morning, but of a time already two years past. Had it really been so long ago?

"Never mind," Danny said, pulling him away from the dark memories. "Nah, he was worried. He wanted to make sure you knew why he went in there."

"I assume it was because he was doing his job."

Danny's voice was a sudden ray of sunshine. "I told that kid he had nothing to worry about."

"He thought I would be upset." It was a statement, not a question.

"Look at the news, Dad. Yeah, he thought you'd be upset."

Frank took a deep breath. "Keep up the good work on your end, son. Can you come by the house tonight?"

"Uh... yeah, I think so. I'm not sure what time-"

"Doesn't matter. Come by; bring Linda and the kids. Even if it's late."

"Is everything okay?"

"It is," Frank said, his eyes going back to the window again. Garrett had positioned himself just outside the door, his back to it, which was his subtle but clear indication that he needed an audience with the commissioner. "I need to go, Danny."

"All right... good luck, Dad."

"Thanks, son." He ended the call with a click.

Twenty blocks in the opposite direction, Danny dropped the receiver back into its cradle and rubbed a hand over his mouth. The day had been a grueling one, and it was far from over. He closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers over them lightly. He could still see Jamie in his mind's eye, perched uncomfortably on the back fender of an ambulance, a large square of gauze taped on his forehead and traces of blood still smearing his face. The collar of his uniform had been stained with dried splatter, and bits of red had winked from the gold of his 12th precinct pin.

But he was alive.

And just like him, Danny had a job to do, too.

* * *

><p>I swear, my author's notes are getting longer than the story, LOL. I promise, more to come on the 1972 incident in the next part.<p>

Also, an important public service announcement! Promotional pictures for the Dec. 2 episode of Blue Bloods, "Moonlighting," are now available on the web. No spoilers here, but let me just say... I need to hurry up and finish THIS story by Dec. 1, because I have the feeling I'll have some new missing scenes to be working on! I pulled the images up last night, and I swear I dropped my phone when I saw them. No lie. I'm such a geek, but JEEZ. Anyway, nothing more to say here in order to avoid spoiling people, but I would love to discuss these with anybody interested!

Next up is the final _planned_ scene in this story, although I will do one bonus scene as well. Later this week, be on the watch for:

_**Missing Scene #5** - Jamie finally makes it home._

Hope you enjoyed - and remember, reviews make my geeky day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Black and Blue and Red All Over**

**Author's Note:** I've been having a Blue Bloods marathon for myself this weekend. Best weekend ever? Yes, as a matter of fact. I'm currently working my way through episodes I've never seen, which go from "Chinatown" all the way up to "Hall of Mirrors," which is in the Blu-ray now. I am learning SO MUCH - about Jackie and Danny (how adorable was that "After Hours" driving scene?), about Danny and Linda, about Linda and Frank, about Frank and Jamie. If I thought I was enjoying the Reagan family before, pfft to that. I'm so in love now. SO in love.

All this to say, if this update seems to be listing slightly toward certain aspects of deep and ongoing affection (some might call it schmoop), you'll know why. Jamie needed some TLC by the time his day was over, and I'm feeling inspired at the moment. :D Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em><strong>Missing Scene #5 -<strong> Jamie finally makes it home._

Erin Reagan was her father's daughter.

She had never been content with idleness, and had picked a career that would ensure her every moment was scheduled and accounted for. This particular Wednesday had been a day like all the others, flashing by in a whirlwind of cases, appointments, paperwork, interviews and hallway arguments. Somewhere in there, she had snatched a few minutes for lunch and made a half-hearted promise to get herself to the gym over the weekend, but most of her time was wrapped tightly in the New York City legal system, and that was just the way she liked it. Erin took life at a full-out run, even though that occasionally meant the basic staples of life (things like picking up groceries or having more than five hours of sleep a night) got lost in the dust she was kicking up underneath her stilettos.

Every now and again, though, something would crop up that reminded her to slow down, smell the roses, breathe. It had happened on Nicky's first day of school, and on the day her mother got her diagnosis. It had happened again just months earlier, when Dick Reed's arm had locked over her throat and he had forced her against the wall in a deserted corridor of her office.

Today, it had been a thirty-second phone call from her father that reminded her.

_Breathe, Erin. Breathe._

And she lifted one in now, pulling up in front of her childhood home and shoving the car into park with a little more force than usual. She closed her eyes.

_Her husband's large hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake in the night._

"Mom?"

Nicky normally settled herself into a comfortable cocoon of iPod music and a paperback book in the car, but she was emerging now, tugging her earbuds from her ears. "Mom," she said again. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Erin said distractedly, pulling the keys out of the ignition. _Her husband's voice, soft but urgent in the darkness - sweetheart, your father's on the phone._

Nicky made no move to untangle herself from her seatbelt. "Why are we at Grandpa's?"

"I told you we were coming here."

"No you didn't."

Erin turned an exasperated glare on her daughter. "I told you ten minutes ago. Grandpa asked everyone to come over for popcorn and a movie tonight."

"But it's a school night."

"I know."

"Weren't you saying you had a trial tomorrow?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

"Mom... is everything okay?"

"Sure, everything's fine." She leaned on the console between the front seats with her right elbow, twisting to root down on the floorboards for the high heel she had kicked off while driving. _Her father's broken voice in her ear, and she had barely recognized the tears for what they were because she had only heard him cry once before._

"Why are you acting like something's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Mom."

Straightening, Erin clenched her hands around the steering wheel and turned to face her daughter. Although Nicky's brow was puckered with worry and she was clutching tightly to the dog-eared paperback book in her lap, it was impossible to miss the lovely young woman she was becoming. Already the glow of the streetlamps played off her high cheekbones, and her eyes, fine and dark like those of Erin's own mother, were watching with a sharpness that was quickly becoming concern.

_Breathe, Erin. Breathe._

"Okay," she said, and reached over the console to grasp Nicky's hand in her own. "I'm upset because your Uncle Jamie got hurt on the job today. And I'm a little annoyed because for some reason, your grandfather only saw fit to tell me this fifteen minutes ago."

Nicky's free hand flew up to cover her mother's. "Is he all right?"

"Apparently, but I still would have appreciated knowing a little sooner."

"What happened?"

_Did something happen to Danny, Dad? Did something happen to Joe?_

She swallowed. The pain of that night was still quick and fresh, like a knife sunk to its hilt in her chest. "He and his partner were attacked this morning. They were pushed down a flight of stairs."

Nicky didn't speak, but her eyes widened and her lips thinned. Her face seemed to pale in the weak gold light of the streetlamp.

"Hey," Erin said, and squeezed her hand. "He's okay. Your grandfather just wanted us to stop by so we could see for ourselves, huh?"

Nicky nodded, but her face remained pinched in concern. "Why would somebody do something like that?"

Erin leaned over and pulled her daughter into a hug. "I don't know, sweetie."

Nicky's slender arms gripped her around the shoulders tightly for a moment, but when she pulled back, she had a tentative smile ready for her mother. "But you said he's okay, right?"

Erin took a deep breath, and shook away the lingering memories of the night Joe died - the hardest night of her life. "He's okay. And you know what the good news is?"

"What?"

"I bet great-grandpa made his extra-special world-famous cheddar popcorn for you and the boys."

"Yeah?" she grinned.

"Yeah," Erin said with a grin back. "Let's go see if I'm right."

Most of the lights in the house were on, spilling a cheerful warmth onto the manicured lawn and pavers that led to the front door. The muted noises she heard as she approached the porch were those of joyful chaos. Nicky hurried to enter once she heard the laughter of her young cousins, and as Erin followed, she couldn't help but smile herself at the sight of the formal Reagan living room transformed into a party headquarters. The coffee table and ottoman had been pushed aside to make room for a mountain of blankets and cushions on the floor, framed by Mary's matching couches and Henry's favorite recliner. Henry himself was squinting at the remote control, one pair of glasses perched on his nose while the other rested atop his balding head, and Danny was taking a long pull from a bottle of beer, watching his grandfather with fondness. Both Jack and Sean were on the floor, tumbling about in the pillows, and plentiful drinks and snacks dotted the scattered end tables.

Erin dropped her shoulder bag in the foyer, her eyes raking across the room as she breathed in the scent of buttered popcorn. "This reminds me of movie night when we were kids!"

Danny twisted around from his place on the couch, grinning at her over his shoulder as Linda walked in with a platter of vegetables and dip. "Hey, sis," he called. "Come join the party!"

She lifted her eyebrows. "What is this, a blast from the past?"

"Family movie night, re-imagined," Henry said jovially from the overstuffed recliner.

Her face alight, Nicky dumped her backpack next to her mother's bag and slid down onto the floor next to Jack. "Ice Age?" she asked, nodding up at the movie playing in overbright animation on the flat screen.

Henry snagged a DVD case with a black-and-white cover from the end table and waved it ruefully. "I was outvoted."

Setting her platter down on the ottoman, Linda came around the sofa to give Erin a quick embrace. "How are you doing, doll?" she asked quietly.

"Good," Erin replied, casting a final glance at the children before looking into Linda's understanding eyes. "Is Jamie here?"

"On his way," she said reassuringly. "Danny called earlier to tell me what was going on. Henry dreamed this up," she added, keeping a firm arm around Erin's shoulders as she turned to the room. "Seemed as good a way as any to enjoy a Wednesday night."

"I'm all for making time to celebrate," Danny interjected, reaching up to snag his wife's hand. "Now I need my two favorite ladies to come take a load off, and we'll see about getting some beers in your hands, huh?"

"Make mine a highball," Erin sighed.

It was to that laughter that Frank walked into the room, leaning against the doorjamb from the kitchen for just a moment to take in the scene. "Did someone call for a bartender?" he asked, loosening his tie.

"Francis!" Henry exclaimed. "How was your little visit to City Hall?"

"The mayor is full of hot air, not that it should come as any surprise," he replied, then brushed off any further queries with a wave of his hand. "Let's leave office messes at the office. Who needs a drink?"

"Who doesn't?" Henry laughed.

Danny leaned forward, snagging his own beer from the coffee table and offering it to Linda, who accepted with a smile. "So is this a new family tradition now, or what?"

"Some days are a little harder than others," Frank shrugged, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "And that calls for enjoying life a little harder than usual."

"Grandpa said I don't have to do my homework tonight!" Jack exclaimed, bouncing onto his knees.

"Let's hope he gets a football scholarship," Linda muttered, leaning back against her husband's broad chest.

Danny smiled and wrapped an arm around her. "If not, we'll send grandpa the bill for his college tuition."

Nicky turned brightened eyes onto her mother. "Do I have to do _my_ homework?"

Erin folded her arms along the back of the couch, leaning forward as she studied her daughter. "Dad, do you remember that night when you were working the Vandebaugh case? Mom was up waiting for you, and none of us kids could sleep, so we all came down here in the middle of the night to watch bad Japanese movies on TV."

"I remember that," Danny said. "We were waiting for the pizza guy when Dad showed up instead."

"That's not ringing a bell."

"Aw, c'mon Dad, you remember. Us kids were in grade school, and Jamie was still a baby. It had to be one in the morning, and you had just walked in when the doorbell rang, and it turned out the Pizza Hut guy was right behind you."

He grinned. "Now it's coming back to me."

Erin nodded. "That was a fun night. Special."

Danny glanced over at his father. "We didn't know until we were older just how lucky we were to get you back that night, Dad."

"I think this is a special night too, Nicky," Erin sighed. "We'll worry about your homework later, okay?"

"_Really?_"

"For now, just grab some popcorn," she directed, laughing despite herself as Nicky did so, with a face like Christmas morning. "I guess I'm setting a bad example here."

"Homework is every night," Frank replied dismissively. "Moments like this can be once in a lifetime."

The front door eased open, and all eyes in the room went to Jamie as he slipped inside the house, tugging off his jacket. A large white bandage was still taped to his forehead, with touches of violet and red bruising edging out from beneath it. He took in the room at a glance then dropped his gaze, looking almost bashful under the attentive eyes of his gathered family. "Hey, everybody."

Erin was the first upon him, Henry and Linda not far behind. "Jamie," she said, and tugged him into a gentle hug before drawing back and cupping his face in her hands. "Are you okay?"

Jamie blushed under the attention. "Sis, I'm fine," he said, trying not to squirm as she smoothed back his hair. "Seriously."

"Hey, take it where you can get it, kid," Danny called from the sofa.

As Erin and Linda took their turns checking Jamie over and Henry observed from close by, Frank walked to the liquor cabinet and made quick work of drinks for himself and Erin. "Jamie," he called, glancing over at his son. "What can I get you?"

"Just a beer is fine, Dad."

"Kitchen, then," he said, tilting his head toward the doorway. Erin gave her brother one last squeeze before releasing him, and Frank looked back at his own father before following. "We'll just be a moment. Carry on."

"No need to worry about that," Henry replied with a smile, settling back into his chair. "Jack, turn the sound up! If you're going to make me watch a movie about a squirrel and his nuts then I want to hear it, by God!"

Shaking his head fondly, Frank moved away from the din of laughter and into the kitchen, where Jamie had hooked a stool with his foot and pulled it up to the island. Frank watched his halting movements carefully as he settled down. "Sore?" he asked softly, setting his own drink down opposite his son.

"A little," Jamie admitted, folding his arms and leaning on the island countertop. "More stiff than anything. I haven't gone down a flight of stairs like that since I was a kid."

"You always did take those stairs too fast in socks," Frank recalled, moving to the fridge. "How's the head?"

"It's fine. Really, I'm okay."

"Good." Frank popped the lid off a bottle of St. Mungo Lager and put it down in front of his son. "I was pretty worried about you today."

Jamie dropped his head, swallowing. "I'm sorry, Dad. About everything. I didn't mean to cause you trouble like this."

Frank eased himself down on a stool across from Jamie. "No need for any of that," he said easily. "Jamie... do you know the name Philip Cardillo?"

Jamie glanced up. "Lead investigator on the case?"

"No, no." Frank took a sip of his drink, palming the glass tumbler in his hand. "Cardillo was an NYPD officer back in the early 1970s. There was a good deal of civil unrest in the city at that time. By far, the worst group was known as the Black Liberation Army. They didn't like cops and didn't pull punches. Over nine months, they shot six officers in New York City. Killed four."

"Really," Jamie said with a frown.

Frank stared down into his glass. "They didn't stop there, unfortunately. In April of 1972, a member of their group placed a fake emergency call claiming that an officer needed assistance at 102 West 116th Street. Do you know that address?"

Jamie's brows dipped inward. "Isn't... that's the Lenox address where we were today."

"It is," Frank confirmed grimly. "The caller in 1972 failed to mention that the building at 116th and Lenox was a Nation of Islam Mosque, headed by a notoriously anti-white minister named Louis Farrakhan. Philip Cardillo was one of the first officers on the scene."

"What happened?"

"When he and his partner went inside, they were ambushed," Frank said quietly. "Mosque members kept other officers from entering the building while Cardillo and his partner were attacked. The ensuing riot lasted for over three hours. It was a disaster for public and race relations in the city."

Jamie put grim eyes on his father. "This story sounds pretty familiar, Dad."

"I've asked the Chief of Detectives to consider that this might be a copycat offense."

Jamie ran his fingertips against the condensation forming on his bottle. "Tell me what happened to Cardillo and his partner."

"They were separated... Cardillo was shot," Frank managed, and Jamie dropped his eyes again as he listened. "Police eventually managed to break down the door to get to him, but the damage was already done. Office Cardillo died about a week later."

Jamie pressed the heel of his hand into his good temple, nodding as he listened.

Frank struggled to steady his voice. "In all the mayhem that followed... no one was ever brought to justice for Cardillo's death. It was, and is, one of the darkest moments in NYPD history."

"What about his partner?" Jamie asked, not looking up.

"Cardillo's partner? He got out."

Jamie lifted his head then, eyes sharp. "He left Cardillo there?"

"I don't know the exact circumstances. Maybe he left, maybe they were separated..." Frank's voice faded as he studied the expression on his son's face. It was hard to say the words he needed to say. "You wouldn't have left Renzulli."

Jamie shrugged, then managed a weak smile. "It might not be the answer you want to hear, Dad, but... honestly, the thought never crossed my mind. Whatever happened... no matter how bad it got, I wasn't going to leave him. I couldn't."

"I know," Frank said softly. "And that's why I'm... well." He forced a smile himself. "I'm glad we're here tonight, son."

Jamie met his father's eyes. "Would you have been scared?"

Frank took a long sip before he answered, letting the alcohol burn a reassuring path down his throat. "I've never been in a situation like that, son, but-"

"I could barely think straight," Jamie interrupted. His eyes had settled on the empty space over Frank's shoulder, his gaze far away. "My head was aching and there was blood in my eyes, and my sergeant couldn't even get up. And there were at least five guys coming down the stairs at us..." He looked back down at the countertop, tapping his fingers against the smooth surface. "I was scared, Dad."

Frank swallowed hard. "So was I," he admitted.

"I thought you said-"

"I was scared for you," he added. "Unfortunately, I've gotten used to the feeling of dread that comes with knowing that my kids are always moving in and out of harm's way. But when my office told me what was going on today... and when I talked to your brother..." He couldn't finish; took another drink. "We could drive ourselves crazy with this," he sighed. "Jamie, you did the right thing. You stayed with your partner. You held your ground. You got yourself, and your sergeant, out of there safely." He waited until Jamie's eyes returned to his, and smiled. "We're home," he said gently. "At the end of the day, that's the only thing that matters."

Jamie nodded, taking a quick drink from the bottle before him. "Thanks, Dad."

Frank leaned back. "And I'm not upset with you, Jamie."

His son shifted uncomfortably. "I know I caused a lot of trouble for you today."

"You did not," Frank said flatly.

Jamie glanced up with a wry, disbelieving look. "Dad, the reverend is planning a protest at police headquarters tomorrow. I know the mayor has to be coming down on you hard."

"None of that is your fault. You were doing your job, son, and you did it well."

Jamie hesitated. His fingers moved unconsciously to his forehead, rubbing gently at the spreading bruise. "Do you remember how you told me that when I decided to give up the law and become a cop, you were disappointed?"

Frank's heart tightened in his chest, but he forced himself to nod.

"And then the whole thing with the Templar..." Jamie ducked his head, tightening his free hand into a fist. "I just... I didn't want to ever give you a reason to be disappointed in me again. And now-"

"Slow down," Frank ordered. He reached out and covered Jamie's hand with his own. "Jamison Reagan, you look at me."

Jamie's eyes snapped up to his father's. The uncertainty and doubt Frank saw there burned him.

He swallowed; took a deep breath. "Son, I may be disappointed that my own dreams for you haven't gone the way I would have liked. And I may be disappointed that your mom's wishes for you didn't all happen. I regret that I can't keep you safe. But I have never, and will never, be disappointed in you. _Ever_. Do you understand me?"

Jamie hedged a smile. "Yes sir."

"You saved your partner's life today," Frank said. "And your own. I couldn't be prouder of you, Jamie."

"Thanks, Dad."

Frank lingered in the moment for a second longer, then squeezed his son's hand a final time. "Let's get back in there before they send a search party, huh?"

In the living room, Linda looked up as Frank and Jamie reentered, Frank's arm draped reassuringly over his youngest son's shoulders. "Hey, Jamie," she called, sliding over on the couch. "Come sit next to your brother."

Danny looked over. "Yeah, c'mere, kid," he said, patting the cushion next to him. "You've had a big day. You deserve a comfy seat."

Jamie hesitated. "You're not going to give me a noogie or something, are you?"

"Aw, c'mon," Danny protested. "Get over here, Jamie. You've been a little brother for too long."

Jamie laughed at that and stepped around the cushions on the floor, easing himself gingerly down. Danny studied him critically. "How you feeling?"

"A little sore," he admitted.

"And the head?"

He smiled ruefully, closing his eyes. "Yeah, it's killing me."

"Did you take anything for it?"

Across the room, Erin put her stocking feet up on the couch, crossing them at the ankle. "Yes, alcohol and painkillers," she said, raising her glass. "Fabulous combination."

"Never mind that," Danny said dismissively. "I've got the perfect cure. C'mon, kid, lean on me."

Jamie's eyes opened, and he actually leaned a fraction away. "What?"

"Like we did when we were kids. You remember."

"We were never kids at the same time. When you were seventeen, I was six," Jamie sighed. "You're thinking of Joe, not me."

"Hey, I know that," he protested. "You think I don't remember how old you are? You think I don't remember having my baby brother tagging along, trying to keep up with Joe and me on that old tricycle of yours?"

Jamie chuckled. "I definitely don't remember that."

Danny grinned. "Then we need to make up for lost time." With an impossibly gentle touch, he reached behind Jamie and slid his hand around the side of his younger brother's neck, easing Jamie's head to rest easily against his own shoulder. "How about that, huh?" he said softly, as Jamie's head settled quite naturally against him. "I'm a big brother. I told ya I know what I'm doing."

The tension seemed to bleed out of Jamie almost instantly, and he relaxed there against his brother, closing his eyes. And even though Jamie was clearly making no move to be anywhere else but slumped against his brother's side, Danny seemed unable to bring himself to move his hand away from where it rested, gentle and protective, against the back of Jamie's skull.

As the children continued to giggle and laugh on the floor, Erin and Linda exchanged a warm look, and Henry lifted a misty gaze that he would later deny to the mantle, where the sweet faces of Mary, Rose and Joe smiled down upon them.

In the doorway still, Frank took them all in, and for the first time since Kate Walton had caught his eyes that morning, he relaxed.

His family was home.

* * *

><p>Thanks for coming along with me on this journey, everyone! If you enjoyed reading this story even half as much as I enjoyed writing it, then it was certainly time well spent. I appreciate all the great feedback, and I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again very soon for another Blue Bloods adventure.<p>

FYI, the story about NYPD Officer Philip Cardillo is a true one. Blue Bloods even filmed the riot scene from "Black and Blue" in the same lobby where Officer Cardillo was shot. You can check out Wikipedia or other online sources for more.

Also, public service announcement - if, like me, you're just _waiting_ for Jamie to get in trouble on his undercover assignments, I have the perfect song to inspire you, particularly if you love Jamie and Danny's dynamic. Check out "Lullaby" from Nickelback's new album, and let your muse spirit you away.

In the meantime, this story is almost-but-not-quite over! A special one-time-only bonus scene is coming up soon for Gymkidz2000, who requested:

_**Bonus Scene -** The car ride when Danny picked Jamie up from the hospital on the way to nab Shawn Hunter and Nathan Bradley. Danny and Jamie locked together in a moving vehicle = fun times!_

Okay, that wasn't exactly the prompt as she gave it to me, but that's where I'm going with it. :) Coming soon!

Hope you enjoyed, everyone - and remember, reviews make my geeky day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Black and Blue and Red All Over**

**Author's Note:** This one is for Gymkidz2000. Hope you enjoy it! Also, shoutout to Rawemotional for the great review - I couldn't send you a private message so I'm thanking you here for taking the time to let me know how much you enjoyed this story. I hope this is soon enough for ya!

_**Bonus Scene -** The car ride when Danny picked Jamie up from the hospital on the way to nab Shawn Hunter and Nathan Bradley. Danny and Jamie locked together in a moving vehicle = fun times!_

* * *

><p>As usual, Danny had left his unmarked car in a no-parking zone outside the hospital. Jamie rolled his eyes before sliding into the passenger seat, and dropped a droll look on his brother as soon as Danny got behind the wheel. "You never heard of a parking space?"<p>

Danny shrugged, shoving his key into the ignition. "This is an emergency vehicle, isn't it?"

Jamie tried not to smirk at the logic. "I don't know if your precinct commander would agree."

"My commander wouldn't care." Danny seemed to consider that for a moment as he put the car into gear, then winced. "My commander-in-chief... that might be a different story."

"Let's hope Dad has bigger problems tonight than where you leave your car."

"I'm sure he does." Danny took a cursory glance over his shoulder before pulling into the driving lane.

"Where's your partner tonight?" Jamie asked, considering his seatbelt for a moment before deciding to forego it.

"She got off a double shift about two hours ago. Figured I'd give her a break. She loves work, but not quite that much, y'know?"

Jamie nodded, easing back into the seat and being mindful of the fading bruises on his back as he did so. Marble steps had quite the bite. "So how does this work?"

Danny pinned him with a single raised eyebrow. "You've never been on a bust before?"

"No."

"Really." He sounded more amused than surprised.

He shrugged. "First time for everything, right?"

Danny glanced over again. "Renzulli's never taken you on one bust. Not one."

Jamie sighed, bracing one arm against the dashboard as Danny whipped out into traffic. "We work street patrol. We aren't serving warrants or pulling drug dealers out of foxholes."

"Yeah, I guess." Danny switched lanes smoothly and glanced in his rearview mirrors. Jamie had no doubt he was already checking for tails. "We've got a team from the warrant division that'll meet us down there. They go in first, we follow. Understood?"

Jamie nodded.

"Actually, let me revise that. _I_ go in first, and _you_ follow _me_."

"Why's that?"

"Didn't I just heat you say this is the first bust you've ever done, kid?"

"I was just asking."

"Well, between the two of us, you ain't leading the way."

Jamie put up a hand defensively. "I'll follow your lead."

"Good. We'll clear the apartment, see who we find. If they put up a fight, you let the squad handle them, got it?"

"Yeah."

"And I'll need you to ID these guys on the scene for me. On first sight."

"Sure, yeah."

Danny smiled again, leaning back easily as the lights of a vibrant New York City washed both of them with color. "I might have to kick their asses a little, too. You got my back for that?"

Jamie grinned himself, plucking up the warrant from the console between them. "How about I keep you to the letter _and_ the spirit of the law?"

"You're no fun." Danny slowed, hung a right down a dark avenue street, then cut a quick glance to Jamie again. "That was pretty sharp of you to recognize those two thugs from the photos in the sanctuary, by the way. You've got an eye like our old man."

Blushing a little under the unexpected compliment, Jamie was grateful for the darkness. "Well... it wasn't that hard. Anyway, I couldn't forget their faces if I wanted to."

Danny didn't reply to that, and they lapsed into silence.

Jamie was doing a mental rundown of his academy classes on building entry and room-clearing procedures when Danny's voice broke into his thoughts. "So how's Renzulli doing?"

He glanced over. "Fine. He's getting discharged tonight. His wife was on the way to pick him up. Should be back on the job in a couple of days."

"Flying a desk?"

"Maybe, for a little bit."

Jamie could see the muscles in Danny's jaw tighten. "You two got lucky, you know."

"Yeah."

"I mean it."

"I know. I know we did."

He heaved a sigh. "What about you? You feeling better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Silence fell once more, and Jamie idly watched the night lights of the city paint the car in splashes of blue, green and gold. He wished he could think of something to say. Asking Danny how long it would for the occasional, unwelcome flashes of fear that seared the bottom of his stomach when he thought about Lenox Avenue to go away would be a mistake, because looking weak in front of a cop (a _brother_) like this one was unacceptable. If he opened his mouth about the bust again, it would only make him look impossibly stupid.

Jamie could just barely catch his reflection in the window, and he scowled a little at himself. He had never been good at talking to Danny.

But Danny himself usually had no problem filling silence. Curious now, Jamie glanced over at his brother. "Danny."

"Mmm?"

Jamie hesitated. "Uh... you know where we're going?" God, even when he _tried_ not to say something stupid, it happened anyway.

Danny shot him another cryptic look. "Would I be driving if I didn't know where we were going?"

"I don't know. Probably wouldn't be the first time."

Danny flicked the warrant in Jamie's hand. "Yes, I know where we're going."

Jamie looked back down at the folded piece of paper. "How many of these have you done?"

"Too many."

"Do they usually go smooth?"

"Depends on whether we can surprise the guys on the other side. Usually we can. And when they get a choice between fight or flight, it's usually flight." Danny switched lanes, and started to grin. "Joe ever tell you his story about Ronnie the Rabbit?"

"I don't think so."

"Joe and his team used to run into Ronnie all the time. His wife ran drugs out of their apartment, over on Highmont?" He glanced over, and Jamie nodded in recognition of the street. "Anyway, their place was on the first floor, so every time the warrant squad hit his front door, he'd be out the back window and halfway down the street before the first cop got in. He was so fast, Joe said they just let him run. Nobody could catch him and he wasn't the one dealing anyway."

The traffic light at the intersection ahead flickered amber, then red, and Danny eased the car to a stop. "So, one day Joe's team hit an apartment on 78th," he continued. "Joe was outside in the alley to help catch anybody who tried to get down the fire escape, right? Well, the squad breaks down the front door, and who's on the other side visiting some of his druggie friends but Ronnie the Rabbit." Danny's grin was getting broader and broader. "So Ronnie reacts on instinct. The last thing the squad sees are his feet going out the window. Only Ronnie forgot he wasn't at home." Danny looked over. "The apartment was on the fifth floor."

Jamie's eyebrows lifted. "So he hit the fire escape?"

"Nope. Picked the wrong window on top of that."

The mental images that sprung, unbidden, were not pleasant ones. "Ouch."

"Yep. Joe said Ronnie came flying out of that window running like he was expecting to hit the ground, then then idiot started to drop - and he was, like, _climbing_ as he fell, like Wile E. Coyote from the cartoons." Danny shook his head. "Guy broke two ankles and a wrist but lived to tell the tale. Joe said it was the easiest collar he ever made."

"He never told me that story."

"Well, you were at school," Danny shrugged as the light turned green. "Most of his greatest hits came while you were gone."

Jamie bit his lip, saying nothing.

A few more moments of silence passed. Jamie could feel Danny's eyes upon him before Danny spoke again. "You know... Joe and I used to grab a beer about once a week and see if we could top each other in stories. That was one of his best ones. 'Course, mine were always better, but he had a couple of keepers."

Jamie swallowed. "Have I had any keepers?"

"Oh, yeah. That time Renzulli had you tackle the hot dog? Pure comedy gold, kid."

He huffed in annoyance. "That was embarrassing."

"All part of the fun. Joe would never have let you live it down." Danny offered Jamie a sideways smile. "He'd have been proud of you, kid."

"For _that_?"

"No! In general, I mean."

"Oh." Jamie let that warm feeling spread a little. "You think so?"

"Yeah. He'd be laughing at you trying to pay your Harvard student loans on a cop's salary, but yeah." Danny squinted out the windshield, then nodded with a gleam in his eyes. "It's up here," he said, and eased the car to a stop along the curb. "We'll meet up with the squad about a half-block north."

Jamie straightened, pushing everything but the job out of his mind as he mentally prepared himself for the task at hand. "Got it."

Danny turned off the car, grabbed the door handle, then hesitated. "Hey, uh... you want to grab a beer after shift?"

Jamie blinked in surprise, turning to look at his brother. "Sure, but - don't you need to get home to Linda and the kids?"

"I do. But I want to hear your version of the hot dog story first, kid."

He laughed. "Deal."

* * *

><p>Thanks again for all the reviews and great feedback, everyone! Your support means a lot to me and I absolutely live for your feedback. It really makes my day! I hope you enjoyed these missing scenes from "Black and Blue." Maybe next time the writers will be kind to us and hook us up with some of these, LOL.<p>

I'll be back very soon with missing scenes for episode 2x09, "Moonlighting." Hopefully there will be enough fodder there to help tide us over through the holiday season until we get more new episodes in January.

Long live Blue Bloods!


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